


A Second Coming Out

by Trooks



Series: Kink [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, BDSM, Dom Severus Snape, Dom/sub, Impact Play, M/M, Master/Slave, Piss Play, Slave Harry, Switch Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2020-03-05 23:38:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18839119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trooks/pseuds/Trooks
Summary: A sequel to It Could Have Been a Pleasant Evening.  Smut with a side of mystery or mystery with a side of smut.  This is heavy SM in the context of completely consensual Master/slave, Daddy/boy, etc. relationships.  No perfect doms, no perfect subs, no perfect relationships.  If you haven't read It Could Have Been a Pleasant Evening, this probably won't make much sense.





	1. The Minister

**Author's Note:**

> Coming out as kinky when you’re already out as a gay man has been described by some as “A Second Coming Out.” Hence, the title of this tale. All characters you recognize belong to JK Rowling.

Harry screamed.  Maybe it more a roar than a scream.  He wasn’t sure he was in pain, but it was definitely more intense than anything he had ever experienced in his ass, and the whole thing felt a lot more tolerable when he made whatever noises he was making.  Hot-cold waves washed over his skin. Sweat pooled against the leather sling and more sweat rolled off him to form small puddles on the floor.

 Maurus held Harry’s head tight against his chest with gauntleted hands, occasionally stroking his face or hair, sometimes putting a palm or fingers gently against Harry’s lips so he could lick or suck at them.  And down below, at his ass, Severus head was framed by the upturned V of Harry’s thighs, scowling in concentration as he slowly and methodically worked Harry’s ass open.

It was Harry’s first attempt at fisting, and both Severus and Maurus had warned him before he climbed up into that sling that he might not be able to take it all today.  At this point they had been at it for over an hour, and Harry had gone from biting his lips nervously, head up and eyes wide open to watch as Severus worked more and more lube up his ass, to roaring, screaming, and panting with his head dangling back against Maurus and his eyes squeezed tightly shut.  As Severus drew back a little, he saw a faint pink tinge to the lube on his hand and knew they had gone as far as they could for now.  He held up his hand to show Maurus, who whispered gently into Harry’s ear.  “We’re going to take a break, Harry.”

Harry opened his eyes, confused, and looked down at Severus, who had one hand on each of Harry’s thighs as he stood between him.  “Please don’t stop, Sir,” Harry gasped out, “I’m okay.  Totally okay.  I’m sorry I’m making so much noise.”

Severus shushed him, gently stroking the inside of his thigh with one hand, “It’s not the noise.  There’s a little blood.”

“No, I’m okay.  Please keep going,” Harry begged.

This time it was Maurus who shushed him, rubbing leather covered fingers through his hair and over his face.  “We can try again in a bit, Harry” Maurus rumbled close to his ear, his breath hot on Harry’s neck.  

“But I didn’t _say_ to stop!” Harry exclaimed, pulling himself up in the sling to glare at Severus and Maurus.

“Not this again,” Maurus muttered, grabbing Harry just under his jaw and pushing him back down into the sling, not hard enough to choke, but firm enough to put the possibility in Harry’s mind.  Maurus gripped Harry’s throat a bit tighter for a second in warning, then let go.  Harry stayed put, closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths before opening them again.

“Sorry, Sir,” Harry said, relaxed once again into the sling and Maurus’ chest.  Severus pulled off wiped off his hands and arms, which were white with lube.  A few minutes later, seeing Harry was relaxed again, Severus went to wash and Maurus tidied up.  Once Harry was steady, they walked him to the bed and lay down together, Maurus on one side and Severus on the other.  It wasn’t long before Harry fell asleep and the two older men slipped out of bed into the living room.

 “Have you talked to Lee yet?  Regarding joining our family?”  Severus poured out the last of the Bourbon, splitting it evenly between Maurus and himself before joining him on the sofa.

Maurus accepted the rocks glass, warming it in the palm of one hand for a moment before taking a grateful sip.  “He’s hesitant,” he finally said before taking his next sip and speaking again.  “He thinks it’s been too short a time since Master died, and is worried this would be a rebound relationship.  He is also not sure, once I get out my pent up top energy, if I’ll want to stay in that role or go back to being a slave.”

“And you?  What do you think?”

“I grieve Master, of course.  I’m positive, though, I can’t go that far under for anyone else.  I was a top before I met him.  Hell, I never even switched, if you don’t count the bottoming you do when you’re trying to learn a new skill.”

Severus gave half a grin.  “I remember.  You would never have noticed me, but I remember admiring you.  I used to fantasize you would notice me and beat the shit out of me.”

Maurus laughed.  “I could still beat the shit out of you, if you’d like.”

Severus looked down into the brown amber liquid remaining in his glass for a moment before taking a pensive sip.  “I think I’d like that, sometime.  I like being king of the hill here, but sometimes… well, sometimes I’d like to be on the receiving end of all that energy.  I’m a pretty heavy masochist when I get in the mood.”

“We should arrange it sometime, then.  What do you think you might be into these days?”

“I’ll have to think about it.  I wouldn’t mind some heavy humiliation with a good dose of pain, but we need to think ahead to our possible future relationship.”

“I’m not sure I could do a heavy humiliation scene with you, anyway.  We can stick with a pain trip.”

“I’m a little old school.  I like my top to be in charge, and for me it’s important to give up control.  No scat, bloodplay, permanent marks, any marks on my face or hand and, like we said, no heavy humiliation… although I do like the usual forms so we both know the roles we’ve taken, kneeling and such.  Within those bounds, though, I prefer an enthusiastic top to a carefully negotiated scene.”

“How do you feel about accidental blood or marks?”

Severus looked him in the eyes.  Maurus was thinking of something particular, he could tell.  “I’m okay with that.  You’ll see.  I’m not exactly a blank canvas.  I just don’t want to be branded, tattooed, or anything like that.  But I won’t be upset if you cane me and my skin breaks or if you whip me and accidentally cut too deep.”

Maurus nodded his understanding.  “Safewords?”

“I’ll call you Maurus if I need to talk to you out of role.  Red if things need to stop immediately.”

“Then I’ll call you Severus if I need to speak to you out of role, and Red if I need things to stop immediately.  Sex?”

“If it pleases you,” Severus cast an evaluating glance down at his own body, which he once again noted left a lot to be desired.  Always had.

“It would certainly please me in general, but that night you’ll have to earn my cock.  I won’t promise you that you’ll get off, though, even if I do fuck you.”

Severus smiled.  _This will certainly be a nice change!_   “Good.”

They both sipped their bourbon, wrapped in their own thoughts for a bit, before Maurus spoke up again, losing the slight bantering tone that had carried them through their negotiation.  “I’m anxious to get away from Lee.  Not that he’s doing anything wrong or inappropriate or anything.  He just grates.”

“Lee tends to rub people the wrong way.”

“Will you let me come stay here without Lee’s okay?”

Severus thought for a long moment before speaking.  “What was the understanding between you before Joseph was cursed?”

“That I would stay with Lee for a year, or until he and I felt that I had found a good next step.”

“And you agreed to that arrangement?” 

Maurus nodded.

“I trust Joseph’s judgement, generally speaking.  He thought Lee would take care of you after he was dead, and despite how annoying Lee can be…”

“I was the one who chose Lee, Severus,” Maurus interrupted, “And you were the other option.”

“Why didn’t you choose me?” Severus asked more in curiosity than offense.

“By reputation, you’re a rather harsh Master.  I had never met you.  Now I’ve lived with you, seen the way you treat your boys, the way you treated me.  You’re different than I expected.”

Severus sighed, then continued.  “At this point, I think Lee’s right.  I can’t have my family be your rebound – it’s too disruptive.  But you can be here as much as you like, you can play with my boys as long as they’re agreeable, although the same rules apply for Harry as before.  But for now, I want you to stay with Lee.  Make sure you still like us as you finish grieving.  Use the time to work out your relationship with Draco.  And explore other people – go to the clubs, the parties, whatever.”

“Yes, sir.”  Maurus didn’t like it, but he’d have to bide his time until Lee agreed, or Severus changed his mind.

 

Harry shifted a bit in his maroon wing-back chair, delighting in the delicious pain that shot through his ass when he hit the right angle, reminding him of Severus’ hand working his ass the night before.  Across his immaculate, mahogany desk sat Head Auror Robards and Auror Jackson.  Robards had the look of a man about to go before a firing squad and determined not to cringe before the bullets.  Jackson, on the other hand, was pale and tremulous.  Both had crossed Harry recently, and now Harry was Minister of Magic.  Neither expected to leave the room with their job.  They were worried about what else the enmity of the Minister would cost them.  Robards thought he could tolerate whatever loss Harry could exact.  Jackson wasn’t so sure.

“Gawain,” Harry started with a gentlemanly smile, delighted to rub Robards’ nose in his ascendancy, “Thank you for coming today.  I expect your resignation by the end of this meeting.”  Harry took out some parchment, a quill, and ink and pushed them toward Robards, who ground his teeth momentarily before picking up the quill. 

Harry turned his attention to Jackson.  “Auror Jackson.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Please brief me in full on your investigation into how the neo Death Eaters got the potion into the victims.”

A half hour later, Jackson had finished the briefing.  In short, they had very little.  The potion was so widely distributed through the magical population that it was nearly impossible to trace.  It appeared more likely that an antidote was being given selectively to neo Death Eater supporters rather than limiting the scope of initial exposure.

“Focus on finding a trace for the antidote,” Harry ordered once Jackson had wound down.  “You could try using the data set I gathered to start.  If you get blood samples, I am sure Severus Snape would be willing to run them for us.”

Jackson’s jaw dropped.

“Problem?” Harry asked, assuming Jackson objected to Severus working on the case.

“I… uh… Sir… Minister, I mean… well.”  Jackson stopped spluttering and took a deep breath.  “I assumed I was going to be asked for my resignation.”  He pulled a somewhat crumpled piece of parchment from a pocket.  “I wrote it, um, here.”  Jackson passed it across the desk.

Harry picked it up and glanced it over.  “Do you want to resign, Auror Jackson?”

“No.  No, sir.  I like being an Auror.  I know you and I…  Well, I’m sorry for what I said.  I know that hardly makes up for it.  I didn’t imagine you’d let me keep my job.”  Jackson finally trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

“I’ll keep your letter in my desk, Jackson.  You have your job at my whim.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.  Thank you, Sir.”

“Good boy.”

Jackson winced at the diminutive, then blanked his face.

“You’re dismissed.  Both of you.  I expect another report Friday, Jackson.  You had best make some progress.  Robards, my secretary will call for some Unspeakables to escort you from the building.”

 

 

Harry exited the floo, knowing he needed to get his clothes off quickly, and not due to any external requirement; everyone would understand if it took him a few minutes to get undressed.  He needed to do it quickly because his head was in a space completely unsuited to a slave.  He had spent the day gloating over defeated enemies and building up his own friends.  Ron was now Head Auror.  He had tried to promote Hermione within the legal group, but she had asked to stay in her current position.  She preferred having close contact with the members of the Wizengamot and had her eyes set on a political career.  Perhaps most intriguing, he now had access to the most secret projects the Unspeakables were working on.  The first file he had picked at random turned out to be about musical resonances in the contrails of certain curses.  Less than useful, but proof of his power to read whatever he wanted in that most secretive of divisions.

He made it to the bedroom and ripped off his formal robes, hanging them hastily in the closet.  He had his trousers halfway off when he realized he had forgotten to remove his boots.  At that awkward moment, Severus strode through the door with his robes billowing behind him and an absolutely furious look on his face.  He didn’t even glance at Harry as he ripped his robes off, flinging them on the floor, ranting, “Fucking students!  How hard is it to count five drops of dragon’s blood!  Not three, not seven, _five fucking drops of dragon’s blood_!”

Harry dropped to his knees with his trousers still around his ankles, bowed his head, and crossed his hands behind his naked ass.

“Get up and get those clothes out of here,” Severus ordered harshly, gesturing to the robes he had just thrown on the floor as he continued to peel off layer after layer as quickly as he could.  Harry started to get up and was about to take a step when he remembered his ankles were tangled in his half-removed pants.  He sat down on the floor again to pull off his boots.  “I mean _now_ , boy!” Severus growled.  The clothing on the floor started to emit a caustic vapor.  Harry abandoned pulling off the second boot, instead sliding one leg of his pants off over the foot he had managed to bare, then hurrying over to grab the discarded clothing and run it out of the bedroom. 

He ran down the hall with his slacks around one leg and one boot on, thinking quickly about where to take the clothing.  Banishing was always chancy with an unknown solution.  Instead, he held his breath and ran to the lab, where there was a stone box, well warded to contain explosions, vapors, and the other sequelae of potioneering gone awry.  Slamming the top shut, he ran back to Severus, who was frantically daubing a potion Harry didn’t recognize to his hands and face.  “Are you okay?” Harry shouted.  “What do you need?  What should I do?”

Severus daubed one more spot, then rounded on Harry.  “What should you always do, slave?” He demanded.

Harry froze.  “You’re joking.  You’re clothes are releasing poisonous gas and your face is burning, and you’re worried about our fucking greeting protocol?”

“The situation,” Severus answered in an icy tone, “had resolved itself.  There was no need to storm back into my room and yell questions at me.”

“I can’t believe you’re serious!” Harry muttered, running a hand through his hair and turning to steady himself against the dresser while taking his other boot and pant leg off.

“Don’t you dare turn your back on me,” Severus spat.

“I’m trying to finish undressing so I can get back to our stupid greeting protocol.”

“Go to the work room and wait for me,” Severus growled, turning to his closet abruptly and roughly ripping a fresh set of robes down from a hanger.

Harry paused a moment, stunned at the direction the conversation had taken, before turning and stomping out.


	2. Put in his Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay... it's smut. Pretty much pure unadulterated sex pig smut. I promise I'll get back to the plot soon, if you're into that sort of thing.

Harry slammed the door to the work room behind him.  _That fucker has a bad day at work and feels free to take it out on me!  His fucking face was getting burned off by Merlin knows what.  How the hell was I supposed to know that the emergency had ended and it was time to resume our normal protocol?  And for the love of Magic, who cares about the protocols when I thought something awful was happening?_   Harry paced furiously as he silently ranted and raved, the occasional “fucker” escaping his lips.   _Today of all days I needed a few minutes to get into the right headspace for this.  Fucking floo.  What I need is a commute!_

He walked to the door and kicked it several times, then strode back across the floor to the opposite wall.  He took a heavy, steel butt plug down.  He was about to fling it at the door when it opened.

Draco’s eyes narrowed when he saw Harry’s arm back, set to launch his chosen missile.  Draco hadn’t seen all that much of Harry, or anyone really, since his parents died.  He had been trying to unravel the extensive and often dubiously documented Malfoy estate he had inherited.

Harry froze.

“Severus sent me in here to tether you,” Draco spoke coldly, annoyed by Harry’s tantrum and the disruption of his own evening.  “Do I need to Imperious you or are you going to put that plug down and cooperate?”

“It’s just not fair!” Harry grumbled as he set the plug back on the shelf more forcefully than necessary.  He put his hands behind his back, spread his legs slightly, and bowed his head.

_“You’re_ the one who asked to be a slave.  Fucking pestered him until he gave in.”  Draco grabbed Harry’s chain collar and pulled him to the center of the room, where an eye bolt was placed in the floor.  “ _Fair_ is a concept that doesn’t apply to a slave.  Have you seen the way we treat house elves?”  Draco yanked Harry’s collar sharply down and Harry dropped to his knees.

“He had a bad day at work, and I’m getting punished for it.”

Draco shook his head, frowning.  “You accept he can do what he wants with you at his whim.  He can beat you, chain you, humiliate you, fuck you because he just feels like it.  What difference does it make if it’s to get off or to blow off steam?”

“Because I didn’t do anything wrong,” Harry insisted petulantly.

Draco, who had paused for a moment to look Harry in the eyes, forced his head down to the floor and placed a lock between the chain and the eyebolt.  “Right,” Draco sneered, “Because a good slave kicks the door, nearly flings a steel butt plug at me, and argues with his Master.”

Somehow, the enforced humility of Harry’s position (knees spread, ass up, cock and balls free in the air, head down and only able to move his neck an inch or so in any direction) worked to keep him silent.

“Look, Harry,” Draco continued in a more gentle tone, “at some point you have to decide whether you want to be Severus’ slave.  That means obeying him and playing your part even when he falls short.  Or are you planning on only being his slave when he is perfect?”  Draco pushed Harry’s face firmly into the floor.  “Think about it, slaveboy.   No one is forcing this on you.”

Harry felt Draco’s hand leave the back of his head but kept his face on the floor until he heard the door open and shut again.  He figured no one would notice if he moved his hands up between the cold floor and his face, so he did that in an attempt to be comfortable.  _Is Draco right?  I guess it makes sense that I’m a slave even if Master isn’t perfect… but how deep does this rabbit hole go?  What if I wind up abused?  Am I being abused?  How the hell would I tell the difference?  I don’t want to turn into a house elf._

He wasn’t sure whether a long time passed, or whether the little time that had passed was flowing like molasses.  His knees, back, and shoulders were aching.  Finally realizing no one was coming anytime soon, he pushed his cramping legs out from under him to lay on his belly, then rotated in his collar to maneuver himself onto his back – no easy task given how short his tether was.  The cement floor was cold against his bare skin but warmed after a while, and, still unsure of the answers to the questions swirling through his head, Harry drifted off to sleep.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

“Who told you you could lay down, boy?”  Severus demanded, kicking Harry’s thigh.

Harry startled awake, disoriented, and tried to sit up.  The chain around his neck caught his throat and he lay back, remembering where he was and why he was there.  His questions from earlier flooded his sleep-addled brain, and he risked glancing up at Master’s face.  Severus’ expression was completely inscrutable.

Severus waited patiently while Harry tried to work through his concerns.  Finally, Harry put his meditations on hold, and decided to just be a slave.  For now.

“No, Master.  I’m sorry Master,” Harry said, dropping his eyes again and slipping back into his role.

“Back on your knees, then.”

Harry awkwardly maneuvered himself back into position, the stiffness in his limbs making his movements even more ungainly in reverse than they had been getting himself onto his back in the first place.  Eventually, though, he managed to settle back into the position Draco had left him in.  Severus walked around to his head, placing one booted foot in reach of Harry’s lips. 

_Right. Greeting rituals.  I guess we pick up where we made the wrong turn._   Harry reverently kissed the proffered boot, pressing his lips firmly against the leather and lingering a moment longer than strictly necessary, hoping Severus could feel his sincerity in the gesture.

“Good boy,” Severus murmured above him, pulling his foot away.  “Do you have an explanation of your behavior earlier?”

Harry knew he should have anticipated the question.  It was a question that was always asked before punishment was doled out.  But he had been so angry earlier, that he hadn’t thought this far ahead, and he was so exhausted by the time the anger passed he had fallen asleep.

He imagined himself wringing his hands with an unqualified apology spilling past his trembling lips, perhaps hitting his head against the floor like a house elf.  He rejected that possibility firmly.  He didn’t want to be that kind of a slave.  He imagined the angry young man he had been however many hours before, pacing, ranting, and kicking the door.  He rejected that image, too.  Draco was right, after all.  He couldn’t only be a slave when Severus was perfect, or what was the point of being a slave?  _Do I want this?  Do I even want to be a slave?_

“Harry?” Severus prodded.

“I’m sorry, Master.  It’s complicated.  I’m not sure how to say it without fucking it up.”

“You can start by watching your language.”

“Sorry, Master.”

Severus crouched down and unlocked the padlock Draco had placed between Harry’s collar and the floor, then pulled Harry’s chin up.  He looked into Harry’s eyes for a while, then turned and walked over to the bed, settling himself on the edge.  “Come over here,” Severus ordered, gesturing to the spot on the floor between his legs.  Harry, still not sure of his status, crawled over and started to kneel facing Severus, but Severus turned him around so he was leaning back against the bed, his legs stretched comfortably out in front of him and his head resting against Severus crotch.  Severus ran his fingers through Harry’s unruly hair for a moment, then ordered, “Talk.  Just talk, and don’t be afraid about messing things up.  I need to know what’s on your mind if we’re going to make this work.”

“Are we suspending our roles?”

“No.  Transparency is part of your role.”

Harry took a deep breath, still not sure how to start, then blurted out, “I’m afraid I’m going to turn into a house elf.”

Severus made an only partially successful attempt to suppress his laughter.  “Somehow, I don’t think that’s likely.”

Harry looked up, frowning.  “I’m serious, Severus.  You got mad at me for being worried about you, and part of me wants to just fling myself at your feet and beg your forgiveness.”

“Might be an improvement over the door slamming and kicking,” Severus commented dryly.

“No, it wouldn’t.  Look, I’m sorry for freaking out earlier and not snapping immediately back into our ritual, but you had nearly had your face burned off by whatever potion accident you were involved in.  I was worried about you and I didn’t deserve to have my head bitten off!”

“That’s rather the heart of the matter.  In what sense can you speak of deserving anything, as my slave?”

“An excellent theoretical question on Master-slave relations.  If I ever decide to get my Ph.D. I can write my dissertation on it.  Can we leave it for the moment, though?  I need to finish.”

“Fine.  Keep going,” Severus said with a tired wave of his hand.  Harry would never be a porn-perfect slave.

“I also don’t want to be the kind of person who kicks things and nearly takes out my lover with a steel butt plug.”

Severus’ eyes widened at the image of being fucked to death by a rebellious slave armed only with a large butt plug.  “Just how exactly were you planning on murdering me with a butt plug?”

“Not you!  Draco!”

“What has Draco done to cross you?”  Severus was now thoroughly confused.

Harry curled to bury his face in his knees.  “Never mind.  That’s beside the point, anyway.  What I’m trying to say is I don’t want to be an angry, resentful, tantruming kind of person.”

“So you don’t want to be a house elf or a rebellious slave.  At least we are on the same page, there,” Severus summarized cautiously, still imagining Harry fucking him to death with the largest butt plug they had.

“Then Draco said that I can’t only be your slave when you’re perfect.  Which is true.  Otherwise I would pretty much never be your slave, ‘cause you’re cranky as hell most of the time.” 

Severus coughed.  “Keep a respectful tongue in your head, slaveboy.  We still haven’t decided about punishment.”

“Sorry, Master,” Harry took a deep breath before continuing.  “Today at work I had Robards resign.  I scared the shit out of Jackson.  I promoted Ron.  Tried to promote Hermione, too, although she declined.  I really got to throw my weight around for the first time in my life.  When I stepped out of the floo here, I knew I wasn’t in a good headspace for our relationship, so I ran to the bedroom to try to get naked quickly.  I figured that would help.  Then you came running in…”

“And I blew your plan out of the water,” Severus finished for him.

“Yes.”

“I think I understand.  In the future, when I am volatile or things are going badly, you need to stay in your role.  Panicking will not help.  Stay obedient and attentive and things will generally blow over.”

“Yes, Sir.  Thank you, Sir.”

“You’ll also find that, if you have your trousers around your knees and your shoes still on when an emergency arises, it’s best to just pull them up and deal with the emergency rather than trying to pull off your shoes and then get your pants off.”

Harry blushed.  _Okay, so I panicked a little_.  “Yes, Sir.”

“When I try to draw you back to your rituals, just go back to them.  Even if I’m upset or angry, you don’t need to mouth off.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I don’t think this is really a punishment situation,” Severus continued.  Harry felt his tension ease momentarily, until Severus completed his thought.  “I think, however, you need to be reminded of your place.  Get your face in my crotch where it belongs.”

Harry turned around to nuzzle Severus cock and balls through his wool trousers.  Leather was nicer, but wool let through enough of Severus’ smell to turn him on.  He saw Severus unbuckle his belt and pull it free from the loops.  He nuzzled more enthusiastically, tensing for the blow.

_Whack!_ Harry gasped as the pain registered, then went back to his crotch service.  He hated licking wool, but did it anyway as Severus hardened under his care.  _Smack!_ A little harder than the last.  A whimper escaped Harry.

“What are you?” Severus demanded, belting him a third time across the back.

“Ahh!  Your slave, Sir,” Harry moaned against Severus crotch.

“And what am I?” Severus hit him again.

“My Master, Sir,” Harry whimpered.  He was hard as a rock and dripping precum onto the floor.

“Do you have any right to be treated fairly?” The sound of leather smacking flesh echoed through the room again.

“No, Master,” Harry gasped.

“That’s right.  You don’t have any rights at all.  You gave them up when you became my property.”  Severus continued to punctuate his speech with his belt.  Harry was panting a little with the pain.  Severus reached down and tugged up on the collar, rising to his feet and taking Harry with him.  “On the bed.  Elbows and knees.  Ass up, knees spread.” 

Harry complied quickly.

Severus got some lengths of sisal rope from a cabinet, and sat on the bed next to Harry.  He tied Harry’s hands to his ankles and his elbows to his knees, immobilizing him in his vulnerable position.  The sisal chafed immediately. 

Severus went to the door and stuck his head out, “Gentlemen, we’re ready for you.”

Harry looked over his shoulder and shuddered when the two other men came in.  They had clearly been warned what was going to happen and were dressed for the occasion.  Draco was wearing a black leather t-shirt over jeans cut tight to show off his ass.  His jeans were tucked into a pair of 16 inch, black oil-tanned Wesco Morrisons, which Harry didn’t recognize but wanted to get his tongue on as soon as possible.  Maurus was wearing chaps with a leather jock and logger boots.  His chest was bare.  Together they were a slaveboy’s dream come true.  Harry sighed contentedly before burying his face in the mattress.  Being shown one’s place wasn’t such a bad deal in this house.

Severus laid aside his belt in favor of his favorite strap.  “I shouldn’t have to fuck a cold ass, should I?”

“No, sir,” Harry answered, shaking his head for emphasis.

Severus flogged Harry’s ass with the strap, first laying down an all over glow, then working back over it until the skin was fully leathered up.  Harry was panting and straining against the rope by the time Severus laid the strap aside.  Maurus and Draco were hard, rubbing their hands against themselves from time to time as they waited their turn.

Severus packed lube into Harry’s ass before opening his own fly and greasing his cock.  He entered quickly, drawing a strangled “ufff” from Harry, then fucked him hard and fast, hands on Harry’s hips to hold him steady.  The course ropes dug into Harry’s arms and legs as they kept Harry from extending into the mattress under Severus’ weight.  Finally, Severus came with a shout.  He pulled out, and Maurus took his place having released his cock from his jock. 

Without ceremony, Maurus shoved in and started fucking Harry, whose ass was already loose and sloppy with Severus’ cum.  After a minute, Harry heard the crack of leather against flesh and looked back to see Severus whipping Maurus’ back and ass.  “Hard and fast, boy.  That slave needs to learn what he’s good for.”

“Yes, sir,” grunted Maurus, “he’s just so fucking loose!”

“Tighten your ass, boy,” Severus ordered Harry, now bringing the strap down on his back instead.

“Yes, Master.”  Harry did his best to clench his ass around Maurus, who moaned his appreciation.  Severus alternated strapping one then the other, until finally he ordered Maurus to come.  Once Maurus shot, he pulled out and Draco, who had skinned off his jeans and shirt, took his place, eyeing Severus warily.

“Go on, Draco.  And if he doesn’t make it good for you, I’ll make it so much the worse for him,” Severus ordered.  Draco plunged in to Harry’s dripping hole, which Harry was clenching as much as he could.  It didn’t take long before Draco came screaming.

Draco caught his breath while Maurus and Severus untied Harry.  Finally loose, Harry flopped onto his belly, exhausted but painfully hard.  Maurus rubbed a hand absentmindedly over his back while Severus put up the rope.

“Come, Harry, lets wash up,” Severus commanded gently when he returned.  Harry stood, blushing when he felt sticky warm come drip from his chute onto his legs.  Maurus laughed at his discomfort, took a finger and swiped it through the spent come, then licked it off. 

“Maurus!  That’s completely uncouth!”  Draco scolded.

“Shush, boy,” Maurus growled, grabbing Draco by the back of the neck and leading him out of the room. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... there's a cliffy. Not a plot kinda cliffy, but upcoming hotness you can see coming but not make out. Imagine how poor Severus must feel, not knowing what's gonna happen next.

Draco slammed the empty glass on the sideboard before staggering back to the sofa and flinging himself down.  He had started drinking soon after Maurus left for the evening.  _Daddy’s so busy with Harry he doesn’t even notice I’m fucked up drunk_ , Draco whined to himself, purposely slamming a foot into the wall as he shifted position.  When neither Harry nor Severus stirred in the next room, he kicked the wall again, this time a bit harder.  Again getting no reaction, he sighed deeply, then stood, then waited a moment for the room to stop spinning.  He managed to get most of the way to the sideboard for another drink before tripping and falling hard against the edge of the mantle.  He brought his hand to his head and pulled it away bloody.  _At least I’m not sober enough to feel it!_   He laughed, ending in a fit of vomiting.

Finally, his stomach was empty and he opened his eyes to a see a familiar pair of feet.  His eyes followed the attached legs slowly up until he found himself staring at what were clearly the kneecaps of one Severus Snape.  _Fuck!  Why couldn’t it be Harry!_ Draco thought as Severus hauled him up to his feet, setting off another round of room-spinning and nausea.  He tried to will his stomach to fortitude, but failed miserably and emptied what must have been the contents of his small intestine onto Severus’ pajamas.

Severus took a deep breath.  “I really don’t have the energy to deal with this right now, Draco.  We’ll discuss it in the morning.  Meanwhile, this is going to hurt you far more than it hurts me.”  Severus handed him a bottle of _sobrius cito_.  Draco pushed his lips together and shook his head.  The potion would move him through his current inebriation to an immediate hangover.  “Draco!” Severus snapped.

Harry stumbled out of the bedroom to see what was the matter.

“Back to bed, Harry,” Severus ordered brusquely.

“Yeah, send your darling slaveboy back to bed,” Draco slurred.  “Go to bed, you sorry excuse for a house elf.  Real men don’t snap to attention when their _boyfriend_ gives them an order.”  Harry stared at Draco for a split second, then bowed his head formally to Severus and disappeared back into the bedroom.

Severus turned back toward Draco.  “Drink, boy.”

“Not a chance, Daddy,” Draco sneered.

“Fine.”  Severus set the vial on the side table and began to walk back toward the bedroom.

“DADDY!  Wait!  You’re not going to leave me like this, are you?” Draco sobbed.

“I hope you remember this clearly enough to be abashed tomorrow morning,” Severus griped.  After a moment, though, he softened and cajoled,  “Be a good boy and drink your potion.  Then we can talk.”

Draco scowled at the potion, but picked it up and drank it in one gulp.  A split second later, he groaned and grabbed his throbbing head with both hands, dropping to his knees.  “Fuck!” he whined, no longer slurring.  “Couldn’t you have given me something a bit more gentle, Daddy?”

“Do you think you deserved anything more gentle?”

Draco dry heaved a few times by way of answer, then crawled over to the sofa to put his head down, sitting on the floor. 

“Now, explain to me what triggered this self-destructive nonsense,” Severus ordered, seating himself on the edge of the sofa and crossing his arms.

“My head hurts,” Draco whined.

“Do you need me to talk louder?” Severus said just a bit more loudly than usual, causing Draco to hold his throbbing head tightly.

“No, Daddy, I’ll talk.  I was just thinking about mother and father, and decided a drink might be in order.”

“You’re grieving the loss of your parents.”

“Kind of.  Not really.  My relationship with them was always so fucked up,” Draco stood absentmindedly to get another drink, “I mean, my father’s dream for me was that I be enthralled to the Dark Lord, my mother’s that I have a pureblood grandchild for her to indoctrinate.”  Draco reached for the firewhisky.

“No more drink, Draco, unless I give you specific permission.”

A mutinous look crossed Draco’s face for an instant, then disappeared, his hand dropping back down to his side.  “Yes, Daddy.”  He turned back to the sofa and sat down.

“You were saying?”

“I’m not sure what I’m saying.  I guess on some level I hoped they would see the error of their ways and try to have a relationship with me.  Absurd, I know.  But even if there was only a one in a million chance of that actually happening, that chance is now zero.  I can’t even really fantasize about it anymore.  Am I making any sense whatsoever?”

“You are.  Of course, you are.  To clarify some more, though – do you know who killed your parents?”

Draco stared at his hands for a long while.  “Yes, Daddy.  And I understand why.  There is no doubt in my mind that they had to die or they would have harmed any and all of us.  I’m not upset that they were killed… I’m just… well, I wish my father and I had had the kind of relationship where my Daddy didn’t need to kill my Father to keep us safe, you know?”

“I know.”  Severus put an arm around Draco.  “This will get easier with time.  Meanwhile, no drink.  Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Draco winced as he looked down at Severus’ soiled pajamas.  “You, too.  Want to take a bath?”

Draco went to the bathroom and started the water running, fighting off a wave of nausea as he bent over to adjust the temperature.  He knew better than to ask for headache and nausea potions.  Finally, the tub was full, and they stepped in.

“Severus?” Draco asked tentatively.

“Yes?”

“I was… well…” Draco blushed and looked down at his hands under the water. 

“Go on, boy, what is it?”

“Do you ever wish you could be a total nobody?  A nothing?”

“Not these days, but I take it you do?”

“Yes.  I’ve spent my whole life afraid I would be killed, or lose my reputation, or lose my parents’ regard, or… well, just somehow be destroyed and now I wish it would just happen so I wouldn’t have to fear it anymore.”

“You mean you wish you were dead?”

“No!  Merlin, Daddy, nothing like that.  Just…”  Draco blushed again.

“I assure you the likelihood you say you want something I haven’t heard of is vanishingly small.”

Draco took a deep breath.  “I want you to treat me like I’m nothing, the lowest of the low.  Like I don’t deserve any regard whatsoever.  I want you to beat me bloody and ignore my begging.  I want you to make fun of me for not being able to take the beating that Harry can while you do it.”

“That sort of play is rather edgy.”

“Just a scene, Severus.  I just want to occupy that place of destruction long enough to know it can’t really destroy me, to know that I come out on the other side.”

Severus sighed.  _That_ didn’t sound healthy.

 

 

 

Harry came home the next evening exhausted, having spent the day trying to diffuse a situation between two pureblood families and a Muggle advocacy organization in addition to his usual duties.  He had brought home hours of work that still needed to be done.  Setting his pile of parchment on the extra desk in Severus’ study, he went to the bedroom to undress, but 10 minutes later he was still sitting on the floor staring at his boots.

“You okay, Harry?”  Draco slid down the wall to sit next to him.

Harry startled out of his thoughts.  “Oh!  I was really woolgathering there, wasn’t I?”  Harry smiled his inoffensive ‘slave smile’ as he had come to think of it.

“Yeah, you were, rather.  You okay?”

“Just a busy day at work and a big pile of work I brought home with me.”  Harry started to undress in earnest.

“I wanted to apologize for what I said last night, you know, about you being a slave and all.”

“It’s okay.  You were roaring drunk.  I didn’t take it personally.”

“You sure we’re okay?”

“Sure, Draco.  What about you?  Why’d you get drunk?  Come on, spill.”

“Just spiraled thinking about mother and father.  If it’s all the same to you, I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Harry finished undressing, then stood and pulled Draco to his feet.  “Sure.  I’m here for you if you want to talk.”

A few hours later, Harry was sitting in Severus’ study, sorting through the last of the papers he had brought home.  His eyes were scratchy and his neck stiff.  Finally, he laid aside the last paper and stood up.  Severus had told him to find him when he was done with his work, so he wandered over to the lab and knocked.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Severus called. “Get dressed.  I’m taking you to meet someone.”

Harry hesitated a moment.  He knew Draco would know the exact clothes to put on for an unknown situation, but he was bad at that sort of thing.  Finally, he called back, “Sir?  May I ask how you would like me to dress?”

“Jeans, white t-shirt, boots, belt,” Severus answered.

“Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir.”  Harry rushed back to the bedroom and dressed quickly, touching up his boots before going back to the living room.

Severus came out of the lab, dressed in his potion master’s robes as usual, and looked Harry over.  “That will do.”  Severus sat on the sofa, and pointed at the floor between his legs.  Harry quickly knelt in the indicated spot.  “I’m going to take you to meet Titus.  He’s a personal trainer who works primarily with slaves and other s-types.  I’ve decided I want some muscle across your shoulders, a narrower waist, muscular ass and thighs.  He’ll develop a training program for you, which you are to work assiduously.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.”  _What the hell?_ Harry thought to himself, keeping his eyes down, _A personal trainer for slaves?  I wonder if Maurus has heard of him._   A few seconds later, the idea that Severus wasn’t happy with his body the way it was struck him.  _I should be offended, I guess._  But his cock was hard at the humiliation of it.  _I guess I’m not offended after all._   Suddenly his brain kicked into gear.  “Wait, should I bring workout clothes, Sir?”

“Not necessary.  This is just a planning session.”  Without more explanation than that, Severus stood and pulled Harry up by his collar.  “Come on, slave,” and pulled him into the floo after him.

 

They emerged in a well lit gym, somewhat small for the amount of equipment.  It was clean, but the equipment was worn from long and heavy use.  Harry had barely managed to recover from his inelegant floo exit before he heard the unmistakable sound of leather striking naked flesh followed by a muffled but full-throated scream.  Harry turned toward the sound, and his eyes widened as he took in the scene in front of him. 

A man was running at top speed on a treadmill, his face covered by a loose fitting bag-style hood like the one Severus had put on Harry when they want to visit Maurus.  As the running man tried to pull air in, the hood sucked against his face.  He was clearly struggling for air, and stumbled as he ran.  His body was covered in welts and bruises.  Next to him, holding a leash in his left hand and a three foot long, two inch wide leather strap in his right, was a short, muscular man covered head to toe in dark, black primitive style tattoos.  Even his face was unspared.  He was wearing a pair of lineman’s boots and a leather jock, but was otherwise unclothed.  Harry managed to pull his gaze from trainer for a moment, down to the leash in his hand, which on closer examination was attached to a cockring on the running man.  _Slave?_   Harry felt the blood drain from his face.  The man stumbled again, this time to his knees, and Harry had a moment of panic when he imagined the man’s balls being pulled off by the leash.  Before he could process what was going on, three things happened – the treadmill stopped, the leash slackened, and the terrifying trainer brought the heavy strap down several times on the slave’s back.

The helpless slave curled into a ball, alternately screaming and gasping for air.  Finally the trainer stopped and pulled the hood off the sobbing slave.  “What do you have to say?” The trainer demanded.  The slave gasped and blurted out, “Sir, I’m sorry I was disrespectful,” He gasped, “It won’t happen again.”  He struggled to his knees.

“Good.  Get out of my sight.  I’ll see you again tomorrow,” the trainer grumbled, still fierce but apparently pacified by the apology. 

“Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir.”  The slave stumbled toward what was apparently changing room.

Harry shuddered and dropped his eyes as the trainer turned his attention in their direction.

“Master Severus,” the trainer greeted politely, “It is good to see you again after so many years.  I understand you have a new slave?”

“It’s good to see you again, Titus.  This is Harry.”

Titus turned his attention to Harry for the first time.  “Perhaps if he strips off we could discuss what you have in mind, sir?”

“Strip, Harry,” Severus ordered

Harry quickly pulled off his clothes, trembling as he worked the buttons on his fly.  _Calm_ down, he told himself, _Severus wouldn’t turn you over to a madman._   He folded each article neatly, setting them on the floor next to him, and then stood with his head bowed and his hands behind his back.  He peeked up to look again at Titus, who for all the harshness he had observed a few minutes ago was now completely calm and discussing him with Severus like a piece of meat, with Severus indicating the desired changes, and Titus occasionally nodding and asking questions.  Finally, Titus pulled out a tape measure and started to measure Harry, around the calves, thighs, hips, waist, chest, arms, and neck.  He then pulled a wand out of a drawer in his desk and cast an image of Harry, making the changes to his form as Severus had described.

“Like this, Sir?” Titus asked.

“A little more in the ass… Yes, that’s good.  When can you start with him, and how often do you want to see him?”

“I prefer we work together daily, at least to start, with one day per week for recovery, Sir.  Once he has his routine down, he can drop down to three days per week with me, and three days with him working on his own.”

“Do you think you can manage that, Harry?”

Harry jumped, startled to be suddenly included in the conversation.  He looked between Severus and Titus, who held Harry’s gaze with a surprisingly warm expression on his face.  “I … ummm… I don’t know.  I’ve been taking work home from the Ministry every night.  When would we meet?”

“I can work around your schedule, and if you need to cancel I’ll understand.  If you like, we can schedule a morning appointment, and if you can’t make it I’ll try to fit you in later in the day.”

Harry stared at Titus, confused by the contrast between his calm and professional, even accommodating demeanor now and his treatment of the slave earlier.  Titus waited patiently for Harry to nod his assent.

“Good, that’s settled then.  Tomorrow at 6 a.m.?”

“Yes.. Sir?  What do I call you?”

“Titus is fine.  Coach, boss, and sir are also popular.  Since I’m also a slave, Master would not be appropriate.”

“Oh.  Okay.   Yes, Sir, I’ll see you at 6 tomorrow.”  Harry hesitated a moment as Severus turned to leave.  “Titus, may I ask you a question?”

“Of course, Harry.”

“Will you, ummm… strap me… like with that slave before?”

Titus grinned.  “I don’t know, Harry.  Do you need to be hooded, strapped, and run into the ground to be obedient and respectful?”

“No.” Harry answered quickly.  “No, Sir!”

“I hope not, Harry.  I wish you wouldn’t have seen my interaction with that last slave as our introduction, but be assured it’s not my preferred interaction with my clients.  That particular slave has a more conquest based dynamic with his Master, and he carries that mode over to me.  Severus’ slaves are generally cast from a very different mold.”  Harry nodded his relief.  Titus reached over and ruffled his hair.  “I see what Maurus likes about you, kiddo.   Go on.  I’ll see you tomorrow,” and turned chuckling back to his desk.

Harry took his clothes and followed Severus into the floo, wondering what Maurus had told him.  When they arrived home, Severus sent Harry to bed, telling him not to expect him home before he left for work tomorrow.  Harry almost asked where he was going, but at the last moment decided not to.  After all, the Master shouldn’t have to answer to the slave.

Severus threw floo powder into the fireplace and stated, “Egyptian Sanctuary.”  He emerged into Joseph’s old home and found himself alone.  A thrill passed through him, and then he started undressing, neatly folding his clothes and laying them on a side table.

He and Maurus had negotiated further over the course of the day, but, as he preferred, Severus didn’t quite know what to expect.  He turned down the hallway and walked past what had been Joseph’s sick room to the end of the hall, where he opened the door and passed into the dead man’s playroom.

Severus looked around.  It was simpler than his own space, but had everything necessary for what he was interested in, as well as a couple of accommodations for Joseph’s more eccentric kinks.  It smelled like sex, sweat, lube, blood, piss, and … Severus wasn’t sure he would have smelled the shit if he didn’t know Joseph was into that, but once he attended to it, the smell was definitely there under all the rest.  _Blech.  Just don’t think about it._  

Severus knelt in the middle of the floor as Maurus had ordered.  He felt the familiar sense of anticipation with a touch of fear that came from handing himself over to another man.  Not that he thought Maurus would harm him.  In the last few months Maurus had made his rounds of clubs and parties and bars, and so far had an excellent reputation – lots of repeat customers, no traumatized tricks.  Maurus had joked that he was holding back to keep from getting the wrong reputation, but was looking forward to unloading on Severus.

The whoosh of the floo activating, followed by the sound of Maurus’ boots on the wooden hallway floor, sent a shudder through Severus.  He straightened his back, bowed his head, and took a deep breath.  The footsteps paused as they reached the door, which Severus had left open. 


	4. Severus Switches

_Severus knelt in the middle of the floor as Maurus had ordered.  He felt the familiar sense of anticipation with a touch of fear that came from handing himself over to another man.  The whoosh of the floo activating, followed by the sound of Maurus’ boots on the wooden hallway floor, sent a shudder through Severus.  He straightened his back, bowed his head, and took a deep breath.  The footsteps paused as they reached the door, which Severus had left open._

Severus forced himself to keep his head bowed and eyes on the floor a couple of feet in front of him as Maurus’ bootsteps approached him with a deliberate pace, then paused again directly behind him.  His anticipation built as time stretched far longer than comfortable.  _Did I do something wrong?_   Severus scanned through his body, made sure his back was straight and his hands were positioned properly.  He braced his shoulders a bit tighter.  Maurus still didn’t move.  Severus forced himself to take a deep breath against his rising anxiety, then jolted when halfway through the exhale a hot, fragrant stream hit his naked back.  It took a moment for realization to catch up with the sensation.  _He’s pissing on me!_

Severus fought down the urge to dodge the stream as it worked its way up into his hair.  He fought down the urge to bring his hands to his face to wipe away the drops that flowed over his head to drip down his face.  He fought down the rebellion that nearly brought him to his feet.  As the stream wound down and trickled to a stop, Severus was sure of only one thing.  He was livid.

He clenched his hands on his knees and closed his eyes as he tried to recover his composure, and that quickly before Maurus fired the next shot.  Bootsteps circled around front, and Severus opened his eyes, blinking away the last drops of piss to see to a pair of knee-high black loggers.

“You made me splatter all over my boots, fucker.  Clean them.”

Severus hesitated, then leaned forward and tentatively extended his tongue toward the little droplets of piss marring the gleaming leather.  _At least is smells more like Huberd’s than piss_ , he thought, trying to resign himself to the situation.  No sooner had his tongue made contact with the leather than Maurus roughly grabbed his hair and shoved his face against the boot.  “Do it properly, boy.  Or do I need to teach you how to lick boots?  No wonder I didn’t notice you back in the day.”

Severus pushed his tongue down hard on the leather, trying to make Maurus feel what enthusiasm he had for the task by the firmness of it.  After a moment, the boot was pulled abruptly from his lips and the hand on the back of his head pushed his forehead to the floor, not hard enough to hurt but real firm.  “I’ve had enough of your half-hearted bullshit, asshole.  Stay here and decide if you really want to serve me.  If not, show yourself out.  Otherwise, I’ll expect you in an appropriate state of mind when I get back.”

Severus anger left him as the report of Maurus’ boots faded down the hall.  His face burned with shame, and, to his horror, tears leaked from his eyes to leave small puddles on the floor beneath him.  Part of him fought against the riptide of emotions that flowed through him – _He’s manipulating me!  I thought we said no heavy humiliation!_ He started to analyze exactly what Maurus had done to make him cry – _First, he made me wait and let my anxiety build while he stood there.  He caught me off guard with the piss.  Then he made me lick it off his boots.  He acted unsatisfied because it was a way to get further into my head._   But even as he tried to analyze his feelings away, he realized he didn’t particularly want to.  He let the defensive thoughts putter to a halt, and focused on the feeling of the cold floor against his head.  After a while, his back and arms started to ache, and he had another sensation to pay attention to.  The piss dried on his back and face, leaving an itchy residue.  He took a deep breath and felt another emotion rise in him.  Oddly enough, it was gratitude.  _But for what?  For giving me a second chance, I guess.  For giving me a minute to get into the right headspace._

Severus was so deep in his own head, he didn’t realize Maurus had come back into the room until a boot was shoved under his face.  He kissed it without thinking, then moved to press his lips to the other boot.  Left first, then right.  It was a pattern he been taught many years ago.  He had never bothered to teach Harry, he realized irrelevantly as he completed the ritual. 

Maurus pulled Severus’ head up roughly by the hair.  Severus kept his eyes down, focusing on Maurus’ chin.  “Look at me, asswipe,” Maurus growled.  Severus brought his eyes up to look into Maurus’ for a moment, but it was too intense and he dropped his eyes again quickly. Maurus grunted and let go of Severus’ hair.

“What do you have to say?” Maurus asked after a long moment.

Severus hesitated and kept his head bowed.  “Thank you, Sir.”  _Always a good response when you don’t know what the Top is looking for… along with, “You’re completely right, Sir.”_

“For?”

“For giving me a second chance, Sir.  I’m sorry I wasn’t in the correct frame of mind the first time, Sir.”

“And you really think saying ‘sorry’ is enough?” 

Severus bowed his head a little deeper.  “No, Sir.  Please punish me, Sir.”  He had a gnawing in the pit of his stomach as he continued the ritual, begging for his punishment.

“How should I punish you, boy?  How would you punish Harry if he came to a scene with as stiff a neck as you came to me with?”

 _I’m not like Harry! I’m a Top!_ Flashed through Severus’ mind briefly, followed by an acute sense of unworthiness at the thought.  “I’d strap him, Sir.  10 times.”

“Would you go easy on him, or would it be hard?”

“Hard, Sir,” he admitted.

Severus could hear the not particularly kind smile in Maurus voice when he said, “But you’re tougher than Harry, right, boy?  A man who stood up to regular torture by Lord Voldemort himself?  You need more.   How many would be the equivalent to the 10 you would give Harry?”

“T-twenty, Sir?”

“Twice as tough, huh?”  Maurus chuckled, before continuing with a somewhat more malevolent tone.  “But there’s another difference between you and Harry.  Harry knows what he is. He’s a slave.  And he wants nothing other than to be a better slave than he already is.  When he goes wrong, it’s due to his limited maturity rather than true rebellion against his status.  You, on the other hand, need to be taught what you really are.  Isn’t that right, boy?”

Severus swallowed in a dry throat.  “As you say, Sir.”

“My, aren’t we formal all of a sudden,” Maurus drawled sarcastically, suddenly sounding every bit the pureblood Severus knew he was.  In that moment, Severus hated him.  “I think an extra 20 will remind you that when you decide to had yourself over to another man, whether for a couple of hours or for a lifetime, you have no status other than what that man gives you.”

“Yes, Sir.  Thank you, Sir.”

“On your feet, then.” 

Severus stood head bowed, legs spread, and hands behind his back while Maurus rustled around getting supplies.  He forced himself to keep his eyes forward and down.  After all, it didn’t matter what Maurus came back with – his place was to accept it.  Maurus started wrapping rope around Severus’ torso and arms, briskly positioning and re-positioning Severus to make his job easier.  When he tied off, Severus found himself in a suspension-worthy harness with his arms crossed in front of him.  Maurus walked him over to an area with a hard point overhead, keeping a steadying grip on Severus’ arm.  He placed an up rope, which he pulled taught, but not tight enough to pull Severus off his feet.  When he let go, Severus adjusted his feet a bit wider for balance, then shifted forward and backward experimentally to see how supported he was. 

Maurus waited until he settled in, then meditated aloud.  “Funny, isn’t it, how bottoms always reposition when you first put them in bondage, as though to regain that little bit of control?  And doesn’t that make you hard, when they do that, and you know it’s the only defense they have against their complete helplessness?”

 _Accurate._   “Yes, Sir.” 

Maurus came up behind Severus, and pressed himself against him, reaching around with his left hand to play with Severus’ nips.  Severus could feel Maurus’ hardness pressed into the cleft of his ass as they relaxed into each other.  _I don’t have a choice about the pain, so I might as well enjoy the pleasure while I can._   Severus rubbed his ass against Maurus crotch.

Maurus laughed and broke away.  “You definitely haven’t earned _that_ yet, boy!  But we’ll see about it later.”  He trailed the strap across Severus’ shoulders, then added seriously, “Don’t bother trying to count.  React any way you want – the rope will hold you.  I won’t give you the next blow until both your feet are on the ground and you are still.  Understand?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

The first blow landed without further warning, a real whomper right across both of Severus’ asscheeks.  Severus yelped and shot forward, falling off balance to be caught and spun by Maurus’ rope.  He took a deep breath and forced his feet back under him.  He was about to try to reposition himself for balance when the second blow struck, this time across the front of the thighs.  Severus twisted involuntarily, falling to dangle from the harness until he was able to right himself again.  Blow after blow fell, some on his ass, some on his upper back, some on his thighs.  There was no pattern other than whatever was handy once Severus was back on his feet.  Not once did the strap wrap, though.  And while the strap was laid in some very delicate places, like his inner thighs, they never landed anywhere dangerous.

After each blow, Severus forced his legs back under himself and braced for the next.  Time stretched into a series of strikes, each of which was breathtaking in intensity, and then by a struggle to get solidly back on his feet, then another blow before he even had a chance to take a breath.  Finally, he gave up and dangled in the harness, gasping for air and sobbing.

It took Maurus a minute to realize that Severus had given up.  He wrapped a bear hug around Severus’ bound torso and arms, pulling him back up and setting him on his feet experimentally.  Severus slouched against the harness in exhaustion, still panting in pain. 

“I thought you were made of stronger stuff, boy.  That was only 28.”

Severus sobbed in response, leaning into Maurus.  Maurus wrapped his arms around him, absentmindedly running a hand through Severus’ hair from time to time until he was once again bearing his own weight and breathing normally.  Maurus pulled back, keeping his hands on Severus’ shoulders, to study his face.  Severus didn’t dare look up.

“Twelve more, boy.”

Severus shook his head desperately and started crying again.  He was still steady on his feet, though, so Maurus continued.  Once again Severus was knocked off balance by each blow, and once again he struggled to get himself upright after each one.  He begged incoherently for the beating to stop, and finally for mercy.

“That was 39,” Maurus reported.  “So, which is it?  Do you want my mercy, or do you want the last blow?”

Severus let himself dangle at the end of his rope for the moment, struggling to comprehend the question.  “Sir?”

“Mercy, or one more?” Maurus simplified.

Severus continued to stare at him, trying to think through the seemingly impossible dilemma.  He finally decided to get his feet back under him, although that had nothing to do with the question.

Maurus waited patiently, the strap hanging from one hand, sweat dripping down his face and off his chin.  After several minutes, Maurus finally asked, “Do you just want me to decide, boy?”

Severus nodded, and Maurus laid his final blow across the back of Severus’ thighs a split second later.  The smack of leather hitting flesh echoed in the room before the delayed scream escaped Severus lips and drowned it out. 

“Shhhh, boy, all done.  You took them all.  I’m so proud of you,” Maurus cooed as he took Severus weight and released the panic snap to let him down.  He carried Severus out of the play room and into a bedroom, thankfully not the one Joseph had lain in, and put him gently into bed.  Severus groaned as his macerated skin hit the sheets, and lay panting for a moment.  Once he relaxed and his breathing slowed, Maurus left his bedside to get some bandages and juice, returning a few minutes later to find Severus snoring in a deep sleep.

 

 

The next morning, Severus woke to sunshine beaming through high windows.  He moved his head to look around the unfamiliar room, but stopped when every muscle in his body reminded him to put his head back down.

“Sleeping Beauty finally awakens!”  Maurus joked, no longer the invincible Top of the night before, but just Maurus.  “Here, Severus, I have some breakfast for you if you feel like eating.  It’s gone a bit cold, but eat a little bit to tide you over an hour or so until lunch.”

“Fuck,” Severus grumbled.

Maurus just laughed in response, bustling about like a nurse fussing over a sick and grouchy patient.

Severus pulled himself up to sitting, gingerly adjusting his ass to minimize pressure on the bruises and… he looked back over his shoulder… cuts.  _Fuck, that hurts!_

“Slowly, Severus.  You’re not 20 anymore.”

Severus scowled at him, and dug into the eggs and baked beans which were, as advertised, quite cold.  Maurus sat on the edge of the bed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Sore.  Good.  I thought we said no heavy humiliation?”

Maurus paused.  “I thought you were going to come in with an appropriate attitude.”

“You _pissed_ on me.”

“True.  It’s sterile.  You only reacted so strongly because your head wasn’t in the right place.  Anyway, what’s done is done.  Regrets?”

Severus thought for a moment.  _How do I feel?  Really?  I feel happy, light… cleansed.  I’m glad he made me let go for a bit._   “No,” he said finally, “No regrets.  You were great.  It was exactly what I needed.”

“Good.  We should probably get you back to your place after you’re done eating.  Harry will get worried if he comes home and doesn’t find you.”

Severus nodded his agreement, and continued to bolt his meal.

 

******

 

Harry paused before leaving his private bathroom at the Ministry to check himself in the mirror.  He had a lunch meeting with the French Minister of Magic in 15 minutes.  He looked… young.  Too young to be Minister of Magic.  It seemed like every day he realized another way some political operative or another had manipulated him, played him.  Just this morning he found out that an old ‘friend’ had orchestrated a scenario where Harry would either allow some Muggles to come to harm, or pass a law allowing the man’s business to trade preferentially with Bulgaria.  He didn’t even realize it until 3 months later, when he read the expose in _The Prophet_.

“Some Minister you turned out to be,” Harry mumbled at his reflection in the mirror.  And now there was this meeting with the French Minister.  He was supposed to negotiate lower tariffs on English manufactured potions.  His aids had spent hours briefing him on the intricacies of the transnational potions trade, including regulations in both countries and proposed ways of reconciling their differing regulations and inspection laws.  And, of course, they had briefed him on carrots he could offer the French Minister, as lowering the tariffs would disproportionately benefit the English economy.  _I can barely remember everything they told me.  How am I going to negotiate when I’m struggling to remember which potions we want to sell?_

He started to feel nauseated.  Nausea  had become his near constant companion over the past months.  As always, he reached up to feel Severus’ collar under his shirt.  _I’m a slave.  I took this job because Severus ordered me to, and I’ll resign the second he orders me to resign.  Until then, I’ll do the best I can… and I don’t need to worry about what happens after that.  Whether I succeed or fail, if I’m obedient I’m a good slave._

Harry thought back to his session with Titus today, as he shrugged his shoulders and found them just starting to get sore.  It had been their first session.  Other than being rather surreal, it was what he guessed a typical personal training session would be like outside the Master/slave world.  Titus was very professional, talking Harry through each exercise and it’s purpose and counting out the reps for him.  The surreal part was the strap attached to his jock – the only clothes Titus wore other than his trainers.  He had Harry similarly adorned, just trainers and a pair of compression shorts.  It made Harry imagine a world where Masters and slaves could walk around as themselves, doing everyday things in clothes that emphasized their respective status.  He laughed at the idea of him serving as Minister naked with a collar around his neck.

Finally, he turned from the mirror and pushed everything but his lunch meeting from his mind, except occasionally he repeated to himself, _Severus’ slave_.  And he took great solace in that identity.


	5. Out(ed)

Harry was exhausted.  His stomach still hurt.  The meeting with the French minister had gone… well, his aides said it went well, but he had the feeling they were trying to talk him up.  The tariffs were unchanged.  The rest of the day had passed in a blur of meetings where he didn’t quite understand what was being discussed, and didn’t quite trust that he wasn’t being played.  He just hoped he didn’t hurt anyone while he was figuring out how to run the Ministry.  As usual, he had a large pile of parchments with him when he stepped out of the floo into Severus’ quarters.

Severus was sitting on the sofa, watching Harry step out of the floo with an expression Harry hadn’t seen since the War.  Maurus sat next to him stiffly, dividing his attention between Severus and Harry.

Not knowing what else to do, Harry arranged himself in front of Severus and kissed his boots, then looked up at him for a clue as to whether he should go and strip, or whether Severus desired some other course of action.  “When did you last see Draco, Harry?” Severus demanded, and suddenly Harry realized that Severus was nothing other than afraid.

“I…”  Harry tried to remember.  “Yesterday, before we went to Titus, Sir.”

“By the time we went to see Titus, he had been gone for a couple of hours.  He didn’t come home before I left last night and wasn’t here when I came back at lunch.  Both the Manor and his offices floo called to day to see if he was here, as evidently he was not at work.  Was he here this morning?”

“No, Sir.  I left early to see Titus, but I came back to have breakfast and didn’t see him either time.”

Severus turned to Maurus, “Go and see if he was at any of those Muggle clubs you introduced him to.”

Maurus bowed his head and lowered his eyes, “Yes, Sir.” And then turned and flooed out to Diagon Alley.

Severus took a deep breath. 

Harry waited a moment to see if Severus would speak, but he seemed lost in his thoughts.  “Sir?  May I contact Ron?  He can get some Aurors to look into this discretely.”

“Yes.  I’m going to Malfoy Manor to see if there is any sign of what happened to him.  After you speak with Ron, go to the Malfoy offices on Diagon and see if there was anything unusual.  Meet me back here at 9.”

Harry acknowledged the order, then waited for Severus to floo out.  Finally, he knelt and made a floo call to Ron, who he guessed correctly was at home by now.  He explained the situation, and the plan to meet back at Severus’ quarters at 9.  _At least I can trust Ron.  I might know nothing about the rest of the Ministry, but Ron is solid._   A few moments later, Harry stepped into the floo, emerging at the Malfoy offices in Diagon. 

 

+++++++++++++++++

 

By 5 after 9, Ron, Maurus, Lee, Severus, and Harry had reconvened back in the living room.  They anxiously shared their lack of information, although Ron stated hopefully he had ten Aurors actively searching for Draco.  Just as they were about to resume their searching, the floo flared to life and discharged Draco, who looked a bit wrinkled but unharmed.

“Where have you been?” Severus demanded.

“I was relaxing.  Decided to take the day off,” Draco laughed, slurring his words slightly.  He glanced around the room and then added, “Sir.”

Ron bustled to his feet, breaking the tension in the room momentarily.  “Well, I’ll just head home and call off the Aurors.  I’m sure Hermione will want to know that Draco’s safe.”

“You are welcome to stay for dinner, if you like, Ron.  No doubt we interrupted your evening at just the wrong time,” Severus said in a gracious tone, although his eyes never left Draco.

“Quite all right, Severus, but thank you.  Hermione no doubt kept something warm for me.”  Ron hurried out, an anxious glance over his shoulder as he stepped into the Floo.

“Maurus, Lee, I’d appreciate it if you’d take advantage of our hospitality.  Draco has some air to clear after the inconvenience he’s caused you.”

“Of course, Severus, anything for a friend,” Lee drawled sarcastically. 

Draco’s already pale skin paled a bit further as he looked between Maurus, Lee, and Severus, who still hadn’t taken his eyes off him.

“Harry, fetch me a senior cane, then get the elves to put something together for dinner.  Draco, strip.”

What little blood had remained in Draco’s face drained out of it at the mention of a cane, and he turned a bit green at the order to strip.  “Daddy, please, I can explain!”

“I wouldn’t dream of depriving you of the opportunity to explain yourself, boy,” Severus spat.  “Now strip and present.”  As Draco worked his trembling fingers over his buttons, Severus spun and strode from the room.

By the time Severus returned, a very uncomfortable looking Draco was standing with his legs spread, knees in line with his shoulders, hands behind his back, head down and eyes on the floor.  Severus had never ordered him to strip in front of anyone else before.  “Drink,” Severus ordered, holding out a bottle of _sobrius cito_.  Draco tipped the bottle into his mouth and felt the last tendrils of drunken vapor quickly recede from his mind. 

“Please, Daddy, don’t do this,” Draco begged quietly, his voice pitched for Severus’ ears.

“Explain yourself, boy.  I specifically ordered you not to drink again without permission.  You disappeared, without leaving your office any instructions or expectations with regard to your return.  We had _Aurors_ looking for you!”

Draco shifted slightly on his feet.  “I… I wanted a drink, Severus.  Just a drink.  But you had said I couldn’t have one, so I went to one of the places Maurus had told me about.  It was the kind of place where I wouldn’t run into anyone I knew, and no one there would tell anyone I had come through.”

“Where did you go, Draco?” Maurus interrupted.

Draco bowed his head a little deeper and mumbled, “The Crobar.”

“What is the Crobar, Maurus?” Severus demanded.

“It’s a dive in Soho.”

“And you took him there?”

“No, Sir.  I must have mentioned it at some point, but it’s a bit too loud for my taste.”

Severus turned his attention back to Draco.  “Go on, boy.  Finish your _explanation_.”

“I think I should be able to have a drink without having to trek halfway across London to hide it, Daddy!”

“And how could you have done that, boy?  I wonder what the usual way a boy in a relationship like ours… one that you wanted and agreed to… I wonder how such a boy would get a drink without trekking halfway across London into a bar where no one would notice if you were abducted while drunk.  How would he do that, Draco?”

Draco took a miserable breath before replying, “He’d ask permission, Daddy.”

“Right.”

“You would have said no!” Draco objected, suddenly mutinous.

“We’ll never know, will we, boy?  Anything else to add to this explanation of yours?”

“No, Daddy.  I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Where were you the rest of the day?”

“A café.  I figured some coffee would help me sober up before I came home, but it was 9 and I realized that even though I was still a bit tipsy, I couldn’t stay out all night again.”

“Did it occur to you to leave a message at your office so no one would worry?”

“Yes, Daddy, but I was drunk and didn’t want…”  His voice trailed off, as he noticed Harry trying to move unobtrusively back into the room.  He had stripped while getting the cane, and was beginning to kneel out of the way when Severus turned to him and reached for his chosen implement.

“Please don’t, Daddy, I’m sorry.  I promise I won’t do it again.”  Draco begged, having given up any attempt at dignity.

“Brace yourself on the sofa.”

Draco took a moment to collect himself, then turned and assumed the position.

“Stick your ass out, boy.”

Draco adjusted and worried his lower lip.  Severus carefully lined himself up.  _Tap… tap… swish… CRACK!_   A moment later Draco shot to his feet and reached back, “Ahhh!”

Maurus hid his mouth behind his hand, but the smirk reached his eyes.  He glanced over at Harry to share his reaction to Draco’s lack of stoicism, but realized that Harry was more upset than amused.  For Harry’s sake, he wiped the grin off his face.

“Count, boy,” Severus demanded.

“One, Sir.  Thank you, Sir.  May I have another, sir?”  Draco recited, delicately getting himself back into position. Severus gave him another five strokes, and by the end Draco had tears dripping down his nose onto the sofa. 

“Get dressed and wash your face, then join us for dinner.”  Severus handed the cane back to Harry, then led Maurus and Lee to the dinner table.

 

++++++++

 

_Is the Minister of Magic a BDSM Sex Slave?_

_Rumor has it that our very own Minister of Magic, Harry Potter, The Golden Boy himself, has a secret double life as a BDSM sex slave.  It is unclear whether his “master”, one Severus Snape, Former Death Eater, has a role in government decision making._

_“That would depend very much on their negotiated dynamic,” states Kurt Missler, a BDSM “educator.”_

_People who practice BDSM regularly tie each other up, humiliate one another, and beat each other.  As hard as it is to believe, even more disgusting behaviors may be involved, such as drinking urine or eating feces.  Is this the sort of person we want in charge of the government?  Is Mr. Potter being coerced?  Inquiring minds want to know!  Write us with your opinion._       – Rita Skeeter

 

“Fuck!” Severus spluttered his morning coffee over the morning paper.  


	6. Fallout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the short chapters, but I'd rather post more regularly than wait too long for a longer chapter. Hope you continue to enjoy.

As Severus finished reading Skeeter’s announcement of Harry’s status through the spewed coffee, the floo flared to life and deposited the slave in question onto the living room carpet, still sweaty from his workout with Titus.  Severus looked up over the edge of the paper at Harry, then gestured to the spot between his legs.

“You wouldn’t by chance have seen the _Daily Prophet_ this morning?”

Harry glanced up from his kneel between Severus’ legs, “No, Master, not yet.  I usually read it when I arrive at the office.”

Severus handed the paper to Harry, opened to the relevant article.  Harry read it, wide-eyed, then looked up to meet Severus’ eyes.  “So… now what, Sir?”

“I wish I knew.  This is rather unexpected, and we have very little time to look into it before you go to work.  Go and take a shower while gathering your thoughts.  I’ll try to come up with a plan also.”

“Yes, Sir,” Harry rose, his head spinning.  How did Skeeter find out?  It had to have been someone in the community.  Would people accept a slave as Minister?  Damning, wasn’t it, to be slave to a former Death Eater… no one would accept reassurances that Harry wasn’t in some sort of magical thrall to him, following his orders, installing the next Dark Lord.  Should he deny it?  Harry sighed and ran up the hot water.  _The price of hiding is shame.  The price of coming out is rejection._

 

+  +  +

 

Draco’s shoulders shook silently on the bed next to Maurus.  He had been awake for a couple of hours now, unable to sleep, not wanting to move for fear of waking his bed-partner.  Laying in the dark gave him too much time to think – about father and mother, mostly.  About how little time and attention he received from Severus these days.  _Between work in that damned lab and his darling slaveboy, the only time he has for me is when I fuck up and get a drink.  It’s like he already mourned me while I was dying, and now that I’m alive I’m a shade._   The thought kicked off yet another cycle of intensifying sobbing, and Draco regarded himself with yet more disgust.  _Still a fucking child, crying because he needs a hug from Daddy._

Maurus woke as the sun hit his eyes.  Years of slaving had taught him to listen and look before moving, to avoid disturbing Master.  Today his eyes opened on Draco, obviously crying into his pillow, the marks from Severus’ cane still livid on his pale ass.

Draco jumped like a hooked fish when Maurus put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him over.  He tried to hide his face, but Maurus pulled his arm down and wiped the tears away himself.  “As sexy as your tears can be, Draco, this isn’t where I like to see them.  What’s wrong?”

Draco shook his head, his face crumbling again, and turned back onto his side away from Maurus.  Maurus wrapped himself around the crying man and held him tightly to himself until the sobbing stopped, replaced by slow, deep, and even breathing.

Maurus waited as long as his patience lasted, then worked his arm out from under Draco’s body, now limp.  He made a floo call to Severus’, who was sitting on the sofa looking tense.

“I take it you saw the paper?” Severus asked, taking his place at the floo.

“Paper?  No.  I’m worried about Draco.  What’s wrong in the paper?”

“You had better come through,” Severus sighed, “I’d appreciate some advice.”

“I’m reluctant to leave Draco alone.  He’s rather upset.  Finally fell asleep just now.”

“Then wake him up and bring him with you.  Frankly, we have more pressing matters than a sulking boy.” 

Maurus opened his mouth to object, then snapped it shut.  Arguing with Severus when he was in this mood was pointless.  Perhaps whatever he was worried about was something more pressing than Draco’s mood, in any case.  “I’ll be through with Draco in a moment, then, Sir.”

Severus smirked.  “Why do I get the feeling that ‘Sir’ means you are doing this against your own better judgement?”

Maurus hesitated.  “Perhaps because, in this case, it’s exactly what it means.  Usually not, Sir.  But I am worried about Draco, and uncomfortable writing off his dysfunction as sulking sub syndrome.”

“Your concerns are noted.  I’ll make sure we have a chance to talk privately.  But I’ve known Draco a long time.  He’s as spoiled as they come and sulks for weeks after being punished.  Now come through as quickly as you can get Draco together – we have very little time.”

 

Only 20 minutes later, Maurus was sitting next to Draco, reading the article in the _Prophet_.  “Well, that’s bad news.  How did she find out?”

“A good question,” Severus replied thoughtfully.  “Certainly, a decent number of people know – you, Lee, Titus.  However many more in the community at large.  But who would go to Skeeter with it?”

“And why?” Draco added, “Unless it was someone who wanted to see Harry out of office.  Which means it could be anyone who had his eyes set on Minister.”

Harry knelt quietly in his place by Severus’ feet, listening to the conversation above him.  He was more concerned about what he was going to do when he headed to the Ministry in 15 minutes than with the details of who had done it.  It was going to happen at some point, anyway. 

“Do you have any ideas, Harry?” Severus finally asked.

“No, Sir.  Not other than what you have already said.  I’ll see if Gretchen from the Department of Mysteries can’t look into where Skeeter got her information.  But what will I tell the press?  They will no doubt be waiting for me when I get there.”

“It’s easy enough to deny,” Draco counselled.

“And that is probably the best option,” Severus added.

“I don’t particularly want to deny it, Sir,” Harry stated, looking up for the first time, his eyes bright.  “I’m not ashamed of who or what I am.”

Severus reached down and ruffled Harry’s hair.  “That’s a good boy, Harry, but you will likely lose your position.  They won’t tolerate a Minister who is kinky, much less a sub.”

“If it pleases you, Sir,” Harry grumbled, shaking his head free from Severus’ hand, “I don’t mind losing my job.  I’m not particularly good at it.  Someone else might as well be Minister, since I’m being run by interests I don’t entirely understand, Sir.”

“So you keep telling me, slave.  And as I keep telling you, I prefer you stay Minister.”

“Yes, Sir.  But, Sir, why should I sacrifice my ability to move authentically through the world just to keep a job I don’t like, and I’m not particularly good at?”

“It’s not as simple as that,” Maurus interjected.  “I appreciate you want to be authentic.  You don’t want to deny an important part of your life.  But your erotic life is private.  You aren’t duty bound to discuss it with the press.”

“And,” Draco added, “you have to keep in mind that your enemies, Severus’ enemies, may use the opportunity to argue that you’re sick, perverted, and possibly under magical thrall.  They may do more than remove you from office, Harry.  They might commit you involuntarily to St. Mungo’s.”

“I wish we lived in a different world than we live in, Harry,” Severus tried to pull Harry’s head back toward his thigh, but Harry pulled away.  “Harry, I really do.  I wish you could get up and say that you’re kinky, and a slave.  I’m flattered that you’re not ashamed to say you’re _my_ slave.  But once you’re at Mungo’s, you’re at their mercy.  They can drug you, potion you, charm you.  Hell, if the wrong healer is on watch, they can basically torture you ‘medically’.”

“We can’t risk it, Harry,” Draco stated definitively.  “Maurus had to _whip_ you the last time your enemies got the upper hand.  Severus had to…” Draco trailed off, then restarted, “You still have scars on your back, Harry!  Just deny it.  They don’t have any proof.  Even if they produce someone who states that they know you’re a slave, no one will believe it if you deny it.”

“ _Are_ there any pictures, anything compromising, possibly?”  Maurus asked, suddenly concerned.

“We generally don’t play in public, as you’ve no doubt noticed,” Severus replied.  “But there’s no telling what might be available, if it is one of our friends who turned on us.  Still, Harry, our best bet is denial while we track down Skeeter’s informant.  We might even turn all of this to our favor if we play our cards right.”

“Sir,” Harry interrupted, his voice tight, “You can’t order me to lie.”

Draco, Severus, and Maurus all stopped suddenly to stare at Harry.  Severus nodded once, then again.  “Yes, Harry, I won’t order you to lie.  You’re right.  But I will order you to evade, and not to confirm.  Can you play that game, slave?”

“Yes, Sir.  I’ll just tell them Skeeter’s claim is beneath contempt and unworthy of a reply.”

Maurus chuckled.  “You’re a good egg, boy.”

Severus reached down and ruffled Harry’s hair, and this time Harry didn’t pull away.

 

+   +   +

 

Harry retired to his personal bathroom almost immediately on arriving in his office.  It had been harder than he had expected, staring into the flashing cameras while reporters shouted questions about whether or not he was ‘a pervert’ or ‘a sex slave.’  He had replied in exactly the words he had decided on in their conversation earlier, and it silenced the reporters for the moment.  Half of him wanted to deny everything completely, and wished he was anything but kinky.  The other half wanted to look them in the eye and tell them that yes, indeed, he was a slave, that Severus was his Master, and there was nothing sick or perverted about it.

He washed his face and mentally repeated Severus’ last instruction to him: “Listen to how each person around you responds; listen to what each of them wants you to do.  This will play out over the next week or two, and as it does you’ll have a better sense of who was trying to set you up, and how you were expected to take a fall.”  Then Harry turned and walked through the door, back into his office, where Jackson was waiting for him, Ron Weasley’s hand grasping his upper arm firmly.

Harry paused in the doorway, surprised at the unannounced company.

“This,” Ron shoved Jackson toward Harry, “Has something he wants to confess.”


	7. Even in bad circumstances

Harry had gone to the Ministry, visibly anxious but looking determined as he stepped into the floo.  Draco, starch gone out of him with Harry’s departure, had been sent to Severus’ bed to finish his interrupted lie in.  This left Maurus and Severus to eye each other over their half-finished, mostly cold coffee.

“I guess I shouldn’t have sent the slave off before getting our coffee refilled,” Severus commented, adjusting his robes as he rose to his feet.  “Can I get you more before we get to that talk you wanted?”

“No, thank you, Severus,” Maurus dropped his eyes.  “I’m sorry for … mouthing off earlier.”

“I don’t expect you to act like a slave, or even a sub, Maurus.”

Maurus looked back up, “But if I’m going to stay here…”

“You’ll find a balance if you decide to stay here, and I’ll like the balance if I _let_ you stay here.  As you’ve noticed, I encourage a bit of spirit in my boys.  I’m not sure, in any case, you _are_ a boy.”

“Because I beat you?” Maurus smirked.

Severus laughed, “No.  I enjoyed that, and it would be nice to have someone to bring me down all the way from time to time!  I’m not sure you’re a boy because you show absolutely no impulse to be submissive, at least to me, except when you get sheepish because you feel like you _should be_ submissive.  Come on, let’s go to the study so Draco doesn’t overhear your concerns, as boys do when you least want them to.”

Once they were comfortably settled, Maurus reviewed for himself what he wanted to say.  He had been spending a lot of time with Draco, every night really.  It had started as just a pleasant and easy fuck before bed each night, but Draco had grown on him.  With time, Draco had opened up about his parents and Maurus found himself telling in his turn stories from his childhood as a pureblood who was found magical but not magical enough for Hogwarts.  He told Draco about the tutors and the healers, the trips to Africa and the Amazon to look for strange ways to enhance his magical power and, finally, his parents giving up on him.  They swapped stories about realizing they were gay, then coming out as teenagers.  Draco’s story was bad, but Maurus’ was worse – his parents had already decided he was a waste of what little magic he had; being gay meant he wouldn’t even have a chance of producing a more powerful heir.  They kicked him out when he was 16.  He quickly discovered the kinky wizarding underground and, over time, learned a set of skills that allowed him to survive as a homeless youth.  Draco was one of the few people he could imagine telling his story to.  It was strange, but it was the first time he had a chance to talk to another rejected gay pureblood scion.  He felt visible… and safe being visible. 

“I’m worried about Draco,” he told Severus once he found his voice gain, “He cries himself to sleep every night, and half the time when I wake up in the morning he’s already awake and crying again.”

Severus shook his head in frustration.  “He’s sulking.  He’s one of the most spoiled children ever to not grow up on reaching adulthood.”

“Severus, he’s beyond sulking.  You had to order him to stop drinking because it he had his druthers he’d live at the bottom of a bottle.  And he disobeyed you and disappeared on a bender even with your order.”

“And he’s been punished for it, so now we let it go.”

“Letting it go is great from a forgiveness perspective, but it doesn’t mean everything is okay.  My sense was that Draco was a pretty solid sub, obedient and respectful… that Harry was the brat in the family.  Isn’t that true?”

“Yes.  Although probably an oversimplification.  Draco was a good sub as long as he was handled with kid gloves.”

“Still, this is a rather dramatic change in his behavior?”

Severus sighed.  “This isn’t his usual behavior, no.  But it’s also not unusual when he’s out of sorts.  And he has every reason to be out of sorts.”

Maurus realized Severus was digging in his heals and decided to switch modes.  “You’re completely right.”  Severus looked up at him sharply and raised an eyebrow.  “Severus,” Maurus continued, “you _are_ completely right.  I’m not just saying that, even though it’s always the right thing to say, isn’t it?  I don’t know Draco as well as you do.  I’m a concerned outsider-slash-fuckbuddy.  I get it.  I’m also the one sleeping with him every night.  When was the last time he spent the night in your bed?”

Severus shot to his feet.  “You fucking asshole.  How _dare_ you!”

“That came out wrong,” Maurus buried his face in his hands for a minute.  When he looked up, Severus had seated himself again, but cold fury still blazed in his eyes.  “That came out very wrong,” Maurus repeated, then looked down and licked his lips, chewing on the bottom lip for a second before continuing.  “I’m going to keep talking, in the hope that my misstep doesn’t mean you can’t hear everything else I’m going to say.  I am very sorry I implied that I was a better partner to Draco than you are, or anything negative about your relationship, and I hope you can forgive me.  My comment was completely out of place.  I value our relationship, and hope that there is some way I can make up for my thoughtless comment.”

Severus pressed his lips together for a moment, then muttered, “Keep talking, then.”

“Draco is constantly crying, sometimes for no apparent reason.  He doesn’t go in to work if he can avoid it.  He’s mentioned feeling displaced – your relationship with Harry has intensified…”

“I’m trying to move him from boy to slave.  Redefining a relationship, even if both parties desire it, takes time and energy.”

“Yes, Severus.  I understand, and this isn’t intended to be critical.  I’m simply offering information about where Draco is right now.  Your relationship with Harry has intensified, you are spending more time and energy with him.  Meanwhile, Draco has gone through some very traumatic experiences – his father tried to have his lover tortured and mutilated, his father and mother were killed in a horrific manner, which he _saw_ because he went to identify the bodies, he almost died from the wasting curse and, given the amount of muscle atrophy he experienced, woke up debilitated and feeling decidedly undesirable.  He needs to be in your bed, Severus, not mine.  And he needs your caress far more than your cane to keep him out of the bottle.”

“Are you done?”

Maurus leaned back in his chair for the first time since sitting down.  “Yes, Severus, thank you for listening.  Again, I am sorry for my lack of tact.  I hope our relationship will not be permanently damaged, although I understand it may be.  Please let me know if, after consideration, you think of anything I can do to make it up to you.”

Severus pursed his lips and glared at his desk for a long moment, then looked up.  “I’ll need some time.  Meanwhile…”

At that moment, Ron, Harry, and Jackson shot out of the floo in a jumble, Jackson both petrified and bound.  Maurus and Severus shot to their feet, Severus quickly pulling out his wand.

“This bastard…” Harry gasped, “This absolute fucking bastard!  He’s the one who outed me to Skeeter!  And when Ron brought him to my office to tell me about it, he pulled his wand on me!  I’m the fucking Minister of Magic, and he pulled his wand on me!”

Maurus moved quickly to get a better look at Harry, “Are you injured?  Did he get a spell off?”

“Strip, Harry, so I can get a look at you,” Severus ordered brusquely.

Harry stopped dead, then looked awkwardly at Ron.

“Strip.  If I tell you to strip in front of Mrs. Weasley, you’ll do it without hesitating!” Severus shouted, now in his face and reaching to undo the buttons on Harry’s robe.

Harry quickly started to help, Severus backing off as Harry took over. 

“What happened?  How did this come to your attention?”  Severus asked, turning his attention on Ron.  Ron paled like a first year, confronted once again with Severus in war mode.

“I saw the morning paper and thought that the Ministry was a likely place for such a report to originate.  There are a lot of wizards who would like Harry out of his job, or at least castrated in place.  I didn’t expect anyone to be so stupid as to directly floo call Rita Skeeter from a Ministry floo, but Jackson is evidently a complete dolt.  He said he had dirt on Harry about 24 hours before the report appeared, and we have him then transporting almost immediately to the Leaky Cauldron.  When I confronted him with all of that, he became hostile, so I took him by the arm to make a confession to Harry.”

“Your reaction to a hostile party was to place him in close proximity to the sitting Minister of Magic?  With his wand in his possession?” Severus queried sarcastically.

Ron paused and blushed, then pushed on defensively.  “I… I wasn’t thinking about it that way.  I mean, you know Harry!  Destroyer of Voldemort, etc. etc.  I didn’t expect Jackson to actually draw his wand!  He’s an Auror!”

“Do I even need to explain to you how absolutely idiotic that line of thinking was?” Severus drawled, glaring at Ron as though expecting a response before finally turning away.

Harry had stripped and was standing with his hands behind his back, legs spread, and eyes down.  His cock was hard.  _Of course.  Near death experience, being made to strip in front of my childhood friend… and to make things just a little more embarrassing, I have to get hard.  Fucking cock._ Of course, that thought only made him think about how long it had been since his cock had fucked anything… Merlin, how long had it been since he was allowed to come?  _Focus!  Focus!_

 Severus moved behind Harry and whispered in his ear, “You did say Ron was in the lifestyle, right, Harry?  Wanted to kneel and sit on the floor in front of him?”

Harry blushed a few shades deeper.  “Yes, Master,” he said softly.

“You wanted him to see you for what you are?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Shall we show him today?”

“If it pleases you, Master.”

“Ron, Harry wants you to see him as the slave he is.  Are you agreeable?” Severus asked in a neutral tone.  “We can either keep this clinical, or play a bit.”

Ron thought for a moment, then asked, “Okay, Harry?”

Harry looked up, dropping out of protocol for a moment.  “Yes, Ron.  More than okay.  I figure if we can have fun after someone tries to kill me, we might as well.  But only if you’re up for it, you know?”

“I… umm… yeah, I’m up for it.  I mean, I’m not sure what I’m up for, but I’d like to see.”

Severus smiled, a strangely friendly look on his usually severe face, “You can always stop things if it gets too uncomfortable.  Basically, this will be medical play and lots of humiliation for Harry… with an actual purpose to the medical play.”

Ron nodded his understanding, and Severus turned back to Harry.  His tone was suddenly perfunctory, “Good, let’s get you checked over.  Maurus, please inspect his physical person.  Ron, I’m sure there are standard Auror spells for checking him magically?”

Ron nodded, and after a brief additional moment of awkwardness started casting spells.  This was no different than what was done when Aurors came back after a skirmish – they often joked about being stripped naked and having a finger put in their asses to look for occult injuries, and whether it was worse or better than the paperwork they had to fill out.  Only it was generally done by a healer, and there was something different… well, _of course_ it was different!  That was entirely clinical and this was… something else entirely, even if it served the same purpose.

Maurus waited until the magical exam was done, then moved in and ordered Harry to his knees to make it easier to check his scalp, then stand again to allow a careful examination of his front.  Maurus did tweak his nipples on the way down, but otherwise it was a pretty standard physical exam.  Well, except for the harsh pulls on Harry’s cock, lubed by the precome that was now dripping copiously.  A sound emerged from Harry somewhere between a whine and a moan, so Maurus backed off and continued his careful exam, finally moving to the back.  “Present your ass, boy.” Severus ordered when Maurus got to that part.  Harry blushed again as he leaned forward to 90 degrees and reached back to pull his ass-cheeks apart. 

Maurus looked back to see if there was any lube on the mantle above the fireplace, but didn’t find any.  “Do it dry or use some spit.  He can handle a finger.”  So Maurus reached around and offered his fingers to Harry’s mouth, who obediently sucked on them as he would a cock until Maurus pulled them away and shoved into his ass, drawing a grunt from the now thoroughly embarrassed slave.  _Amazing how much more humiliating something can be with the addition of one more person,_ Harry thought as he heard the embarrassing whimper coming from his mouth when Maurus grazed his prostate before withdrawing. 

Severus glanced at Ron’s crotch, noting that his wool trousers were now ineffectively containing an erection.  Apparently not a small one, either.  A quick check revealed Maurus was in a similar situation. 

“He’s physically fine, Severus,” Maurus concluded.

“Magically, too,” Ron added.

“Good.  Harry, why don’t you thank Maurus.”

Harry straightened and took a couple of steps toward Maurus before dropping to his knees directly in front of him, close enough to smell the sweat and musk from his crotch as he bowed his head.  “Sir, thank you for your skill in checking me physically.  Is there any service I can offer to thank you more concretely?”

Maurus freed his erection, and without a word grabbed Harry’s head and brutally skull fucked him, while Harry tried to breath and not to gag as his mouth and throat were battered.  Ron looked on, wide eyed, his cock tenting out his pants even more as he looked on.  Maurus came quickly, released Harry’s head, and thanked Severus.

“Thank you, Sir,” Harry gasped hoarsely from his place on the floor.  Maurus ruffled his hair.

“Thank Ron, now.” Severus ordered.

Harry crawled over to his friend and, not looking up, mumbled, “Sir, thank you for your skill in checking me over magically.  Is there any service I can offer to thank you more concretely?”

Ron looked over at Severus, not sure what to do.  Severus shrugged his shoulders and commented, “You are under no obligation to use the slave, of course.  I’d recommend not if you and Hermione don’t have that kind of relationship.  But if it would bring you pleasure, I can assure you that Harry likes being a slave, and being used in this way is part of it for him.  The added humiliation of sucking off a childhood friend probably makes it even more delicious.  Just look at his cock.”

Ron wasn’t able to help himself, and looked down at Harry, who was now blushing almost purple.  His cock was, indeed, rock hard.  “That true, mate?” Ron finally asked.

“Yes,”  Harry looked up earnestly, dropping out of his more formal speech for the moment.  “I’m beyond humiliated right now, but … well, I do like this.  I just worry we’re making you uncomfortable?”

“Ummm… well, yes.  I’m uncomfortable.  But I’m also enjoying this, and would frankly love a blow job.  But, ah, Hermione might not appreciate it, you know?  I’d have to ask first.  But I don’t want you to feel rejected… I mean, I really would love to get off.”

Harry dropped his eyes again.  “May I offer you some other service?  Perhaps a bottle of lube and the shower?”

Ron grinned and answered gleefully, “That’s the best idea _ever_!”  Severus and Maurus chuckled, and Harry ran off to see to his friend’s needs.

“Okay, I’m going to get started working over this slime,” Severus said to Ron, gesturing toward the still petrified Jackson, “while you and Harry finish up.  Feel free to follow after, or have Harry get you some coffee and a snack.”  With that, Severus hovered Jackson to the work room, Maurus in tow.

+++

 

“You _do_ realize,” Jackson, now bound tightly to a chair in the work room, snarled up at Severus, “that I was conscious for that entire perverted exchange!  How are you going to deny the Minister is a sex slave now?  _I’d_ consent to that memory being viewed in a Pensieve!”

Maurus, standing behind Jackson, whispered in his ear, “What makes you think you’re leaving here alive?”

Jackson flinched, and craned his neck to look up at Maurus.  “What?”

“If I were in that chair,” Maurus continued, “and I knew Snape’s reputation… _and_ I knew that I had dirt on him that he hadn’t even tried to avoid giving me… well, I’m just saying _I’d_ be worried I wasn’t going to survive the encounter.”

Jackson turned back to Severus, his eyes wide.  Severus nonchalantly withdrew a vial of clear potion, setting it on the shelf behind him.

“You can’t use that!  Veritaserum is illegal when not administered under Ministry direction!” Jackson sputtered.

Severus gave a feral smile, his voice hypnotic, “True.  I don’t plan on giving it to you.  It’s there to remind you what to beg for, when your voice has given out from screaming and your mind is frayed from pain.  It’s there to remind you how, if you had chosen your path differently, your interrogation might have proceeded.  But I assure you I have no intention of using an illegal potion on an Auror.”  With that, Severus delicately grasped Jackson’s hair at the top of his head, looked into his eyes thoughtfully, brought his right hand slowly up and then effortlessly back down against Jackson’s face, hard enough to draw blood both inside and outside his mouth.

 

By the time Severus and Maurus were done, Jackson had told them everything they wanted to know.  By that point, Harry had long since returned to the Ministry, and Rob had gone.  Severus changed into formal robes and, leaving Maurus to watch over Jackson, flooed directly to Harry’s office.

Harry was in the middle of a meeting with two representatives from the Division of Unmentionables of the Department of Mysteries, who shot to their feet at Severus’ entrance.  Harry fought his impulse to stand, instead remaining seated as Severus approached.  “It’s good to see you, Severus.  Why don’t you wait in the lobby for a moment?  We’re almost done with our meeting.”

Severus nodded, and showed himself out the door to a surprised receptionist, who quickly recovered and offered to fetch tea.  The cup had cooled completely by the time Harry approached the door to his office, seeing off the Department of Mysteries representatives and greeting Severus.  Severus bowed formally and thanked the Minister for taking the time to see him on such short notice, then followed him into the office.  Once the door was closed, Severus grabbed Harry’s collar through his shirt and shoved him to his knees.  Harry gave a delighted grin, and leaned forward from his high kneel to hug Severus around the waist, nuzzling his crotch as he did so.

“Sorry, Sir.  I figured it was the best way to put those rumors to rest.”

“So it was, boy,” Severus sighed, pushing Harry’s more firmly against his groin, “Just can’t let you forget where you belong.”

“No, Sir.  Can’t allow that.  Please, Sir, may I suck your cock?”  Harry looked up at Severus enticingly.

Severus laughed.  “Greedy, aren’t you?  No, slave, we need to talk about Jackson and what he told us.”

Harry rose to his feet, suddenly the Minister once again, and sat behind his desk.  “Before we get into that, what kind of clean up are we going to need to do?  I have Jackson’s resignation letter in my desk, so that’s easy, but is there anything more?”

“If there’s a discrete way to alter his memory, it would be useful.  Otherwise we may need to dispose of him more directly.  He certainly deserves as much after what he’s done, but he may be useful if we are able to play him ignorant that we know what he’s involved in.”

“We can have a specialist alter his memory.  There are some who are loyal to me personally and won’t make much of why his memory needs to be changed in the first place.  What did he tell you?”

Over the next half hour, Severus told all that he had learned.  Jackson had known far more than he suspected, and as he became desperate, he had begun to answer more than what Severus asked.  The most important information had nothing to do with the Skeeter story.  The potion that made wizards vulnerable to the wasting curse had been distributed through the floo system, perhaps in floo powder – Severus hadn’t been sure whether Jackson was speculating to avoid further torture at that point or giving him actual information.  It explained the wide penetration of the potion, but not why the few who were spared avoided the potion.  Still, it was a direction to investigate.  Second, there was an organized group of wizards at the Ministry who wanted Harry out.  Jackson was apparently a low level operative, and didn’t know the names of any but the one person he was getting and feeding information to, another Auror, Sniver Smith. 

“I know him.  He’ll be sacked by evening.”

“I’d suggest not, Minister.  It would be far more useful to keep him in place, and work our way along to see who else is involved.  We can also use him, and Jackson if he can be rehabilitated enough to avoid suspicion, to give misinformation.”

“Always the spy,” Harry nodded.

Severus smirked and went on.  Jackson hadn’t known who it was that gave Smith the information which Jackson had been tasked with passing to Skeeter, but from what he gathered it was someone in their circle.

“Maurus?” Harry asked.

“Perhaps, although I doubt it.  Maurus assisted in the interrogation, and didn’t give any sign of guilt through the entire process.  That said, I have entirely different reasons to be pissed at Maurus right now, and it might…”  Severus paused for a moment, rolling the idea in this head.  “It might work to our benefit that I can push Maurus away – Maurus assuming it’s because he offended me, and anyone who notices assuming it’s because I don’t trust him anymore.  That might keep whoever outed us active in the game, so we can more easily track him down.”

Harry looked concerned.  “Severus, I like Maurus a lot.  Might I ask what happened? I mean, I want him to be around.  He’s the person I always went to for advice about being a slave.  There’s some stuff I can’t ask you.”

“And there are things you can’t ask him anymore now that he’s a Top, Harry,” Severus said harshly.  Seeing the hurt look on Harry’s face, he softened his tone to add, “That’s probably why he suggested I get you in with Titus.”

Harry was flabbergasted.  Titus had mentioned that Maurus had said he liked Harry, and Maurus had been a lot more distant since that horrible dinner right after Joseph died.  Harry had assumed it was because he hadn’t forgiven Harry yet for his tactless comment about being (or not being) as slave when he had just lost his Master.  Maybe, though, it was simply that it wouldn’t be appropriate for a Dom to talk to someone else’s sub about how to relate to their Dom?  Harry felt a bit of relief at that.  Then he realized he hadn’t ever really apologized properly to Maurus for being such a jerk.  _I’ll do it as soon as I can speak to him in private_.

“Harry!” Severus said sharply, clearly having repeated himself more than once.

“Sorry, Severus, I…”

“I expect a response the first time I address you.”

“Yes, Sir.  Sorry, Sir,” Harry said sheepishly, bringing his attention back where it belonged.

“I don’t think it’s Maurus.  I don’t want to discuss why I’m pissed at Maurus, as it’s none of your business.”

“What about Lee?  He’s always rubbed me the wrong way.”

“He rubs everyone the wrong way.  Not a bad person, though – I’ve known him for a very long time, and he’s had more than one chance to betray me.  I don’t know why he’d start now.”

Slowly they worked through the long list of names of people who knew that Harry was Severus’ slave.  In the end, they were no closer to an answer than before.  Finally, the conversation wound down, and Severus exited via the floo, Harry promising that a memory specialist would follow within the hour.  With that, Harry settled back to work, perversely happy that he and Severus had something to work on together.


End file.
